


A Taste of Bittersweet

by cfcureton



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 20:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10170719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfcureton/pseuds/cfcureton
Summary: A casual question from his new girlfriend sends Oliver down memory lane.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop thinking about all the relationship nuances that make Olicity special (thank you SA and EBR); in the case of this story, it's the way big strong Oliver always gives way to Felicity's touch, and the fact that I can't imagine him finding any joy in cooking without her.  
> This is my first fan fiction since I was in high school (which pre-dates the Internet. Yikes.), but the story wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down.

Susan Williams was at the door to his office promptly at 5:30. He pushed back from his desk with an inward sigh but gave her the Ollie smile. It had been a long, hard day, and what he really needed to do was decompress on the salmon ladder, but he'd had to cancel too many dates already.

She hooked her arm through his as they passed through the doorway and into the hall. Oliver ignored his assistant's major side eye as he bid everyone a good evening and they strolled toward the elevator, his security detail falling into step behind them.

"I know we already have reservations for tonight," Susan began, "but I was thinking since tomorrow is Friday maybe one of us could cook." She gave him a mischievous smile and grabbed onto his arm with her other hand. His hands were in his pockets and her sudden pull was almost strong enough to knock him off balance into her, but he resisted her affectionate tug and kept moving forward, his mind suddenly racing.

Just as he opened his mouth to reply her cell phone went off. She let go of him to dig into her purse and then excused herself before fielding the call. Oliver stepped away to the window to wait.

He stared sightlessly at the Star City skyline, his breath gone for a moment over her question. Did he cook? The last meal he'd cooked for someone else was the breakfast he'd made Felicity the morning of her last therapy session before she regained the function in her legs; the day she found out about William and his world had come crashing down around his ears.

In a series of flashbacks he suddenly recalled the first time he'd considered learning to cook. It was the day they'd moved into the house in Ivy Town, and one of the neighbors had stopped by to invite them to a block party that evening. Exhausted but cleaned up and starving, he and Felicity had edged into the back yard next door hand in hand, navigating the herds of children running amok, their mouths watering at the smell of steaks on the grill. Armed with beers and plates full of homemade salads and sides, they'd quickly been introduced to everyone on the street.

As Oliver finished off his beer he watched Felicity in the dying light of the day, her eyes closed in concentration as she polished off her last bite of steak and groaned with pleasure. The sides of his mouth pulled up in a little smile, and he let his head fall back to look up at the trees overhead, the sound of children laughing and the buzz of adult conversation blending with the drone of a lawn mower in the distance. If this was life in suburbia then he wanted every minute of it.

Still, it would be a big adjustment from city life; take out wasn't as easy to come by, and the only delivery they could get was pizza, so somebody was going to have to step up and feed them, and Oliver decided right then and there that it would be him. It hadn't all been perfect, but he was a quick study and Felicity was happy to taste test if it didn't look too vegetable-y. (The memory of the number of debates they'd had over whether or not that was even a word made his chest suddenly ache.)

He let other memories flood over him for a minute; the farmers market, brunches with the neighbors, candlelight dinners, the pigs-in-a-blanket Felicity was so proud to contribute to every party. There were his early (horrendous) attempts at French cooking, and the look on Felicity's face when she tasted the accidentally-sugarless pumpkin pie that produced the first belly laugh he'd had in 10 years. It surprised them both that although she was hopeless in the kitchen, Felicity had a flare for pairing wine with food. They had a favorite Ivy Town winery where they could spend hours at tastings, heads close together as they sampled and debated. Then they would shop for their favorites, arms linked together, and when her enthusiastic tugs pulled him off balance he would let himself fall into her, just to feel her against his side.

Susan's touch on his arm returned him to the present in a rush, and he had to look away from her a moment to make sure his face was composed.

"So what do you say," she continued as they stepped into the waiting elevator. "Feel like cooking together?"

Oliver glanced down at his shoes as the doors closed. "I don't really cook," he replied softly.


End file.
